Wait For Me
by Lazarus76
Summary: Historical AU!Fic. Can Arthur and Eames survive in Nazi Occupied Berlin, under a mission from the US Government?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Historical AU!Fic. **

Eames looked up as the key scraped in the lock. He had grown accustomed to a slight flicker of nerves everytime he heard it. There was always the possibility it wasn't Arthur, but someone else. Someone who had found out the secret of the two men in the slightly ramshackle apartment.

"Arthur?" He called out, then cursed himself. If it wasn't Arthur, he'd just done someone's job for them.

"Yes?" The younger man entered, dressed in a casual grey suit. "Who did you think it was?"

"Well, I'm-" the Forger paused. This job was proving to have hidden liabilities. After Cobb had requested they travel to Berlin – Nazi-occupied Berlin – in order to try and find the secrets that could help end the war – Eames had been on a knife edge. Berlin was a beautiful city, he conceded. But it was filled with threat. No gays. No Jews. No Communists. He looked at Arthur's profile, and a slight shudder ran through him.

"Eames." Arthur's voice was firm. "Remember, I'm American; you're British. We do have protection."

"Yes." Eames felt irritated. "And we're both gay. Not the kind of people the Nazis want in the Master Race. If we're lucky, they'll deport us. That is, if we're discovered before we try and gain war secrets that your Government want." Eames shook his head.

"And if we succeed in finding out the secrets, we can go home, job done."

"And if we don't ,we get shot." Eames reached for one of the bottled beers Arthur had taken out of the fridge. "Correction – we get tortured, then we get sent to a camp, and then we get shot. Fun."

Arthur took a swallow. "Relax."

"I won't relax." Eames gripped the bottle tighter. "I won't relax as you're being so bloody ignorant. Cobb and Ariadne can pose as a couple, and get away with it. They're both straight. You and I have to live in subterfuge, and its only a matter of time before the Gest-"

Arthur lifted a finger to his lips. The sound of footsteps were coming up the narrow stairwell. With a slight sense of panic, both men heard the clang of jackboots.

"Turn off the light!" Arthur hissed. Eames got up and did so, and both men sat absolutely still in the darkness.

A loud pounding echoed down the corridor. Eames felt his breathing increase – it was one of the other flats. A voice started barking orders in angry German. There was a loud bang, and both men realised the door of the neighbouring property had been kicked in. Shouts and yells filled the air, and they heard a woman scream. German filled the air; wincing, Arthur realised the tone was abusive.

They waited. The sound of boots clattered down the corridor, and they heard scuffling and squeal on the stairs.

After another few minutes, silence.

Arthur reached across the table for Eames' hand. Finding it, he curled his fingers round it. Eames gave it a squeeze.

"They're not coming for us." His voice was a whisper.

Eames rubbed his index finger along Arthur's. "Matter of time, Art. Matter of time."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews are appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur shivered as he opened the door of the tenement building. A blast of icy wind hit him in the face, causing him to pull his hat brim lower and raise the collar of his black peacoat. Shivering slightly, he began to walk.

The sky was overcast and gloomy. Berlin seemed depressed, downbeat, he observed, even in this affluent sector. He walked past the parade of shops and cafes, which were starting to come to life. A man was putting tables and chairs outside his café. He straightened up, and went back inside. When he came back out, Arthur paused. The man was tacking a notice up on the glass window.

With a sinking heart, Arthur read it. It was a stark, blunt message.

"NO JEWS!"

He swallowed, and hurried on. He was aware that being American gave him immunity, as did his status as a double agent. But if the Nazis discovered that he and Eames were posing to feed them falsified allied information, whilst trying to infiltrate the dreams of the generals – he knew they would be shot. If they found out he and Eames were gay, they'd be tortured first. And if they found out that Arthur had Jewish blood – he realised he couldn't bear to think it.

As he walked, the wind blew dried out leaves, causing them to skitter across the pavement. People were beginning to move, leaving their homes, heading to work. He paused to reflect the faint aura of normality. People were going about their everyday business, clearly unwilling or unable to accept that they were in the grip of a monstrous regime.

He hadn't believed it himself, at first. Working as a spy had been confined mostly to small jobs in Europe, and trying to keep an eye on the Russians. But then he'd been tipped off about a new, secret project, a project that could potentially impact upon international politics.

* * *

"You're not serious," Arthur had said, disbelivingly. He'd been sitting in a small room, facing an intense blonde man. The man had seemed even more nervous than Arthur himself.

"No, I am very serious." The man had leaned back in his chair. "Think about it. This is a machine that can give you the power to enter people's thoughts. It's a truly tremendous advancement in physics and psychology."

Arthur had looked at him. "And the purpose is…?"

"What if we could get into the dreams and minds of the most powerful people in the world?" The man had demanded. "Read their thoughts? Find out their deepest secrets? This will enable us to. Enable us to see where trouble could start in the world, where problems need eradicating. Its not safe. But this could potentially save lives. Change history before its even started."

"Change History?" Arthur looked at him, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"Its 1939." Dom Cobb explained. "Germany is currently under the Nazi regime. Hitler intends to pursue an aggressive programme of conquest and expansion. Plus, there's something else going on. Elimination of anyone who doesn't fit the Aryan race."

Arthur nodded. "Agreed."

"We need to know what he's planning. This could give us the ability to do so. If you're posted in Berlin, you'll be working at the headquarters. The Nazis will think you're an American giving them information. You'll be giving them falsified information to keep gaining access."

"That will only work for so long- "

"Which is why you need to move fast." Cobb looked at him. "You have three months. I'll be out to Germany in six weeks. You'll be working with a member of MI6."

"A Brit?" Arthur was puzzled.

"Yes. The British government wants to see an end to this as much as we do. The Nazis are already repealing large parts of the Treaty of Versailles. You'll be working and living together."

"What will he be doing?"

"He'll be posing as a business consultant. That way, he can observe the finances and any people who can act as a gateway."

Arthur looked at Cobb. "There's no choice, is there?"

"None." Cobb's voice was grave. "We've picked you for this for one very simple reason – you're the best at what you do."

Arthur stood up. "I'm good at profiling and researching," he spoke carefully, "but there's something you should know. I'm part Jewish."

Cobb looked at him. "You'll have immunity. You're American. They won't kill someone they think is on their side."

Arthur swallowed. "If you're sure."

Cobb smiled. "I am. Good luck, Agent."

* * *

Arthur shook his head. He still wondered what had possessed him to agree to this assignment. He felt as though he were living on borrowed time, constantly watching his step. He kept moving down the pavement, trying as hard as he could not to attract attention. He tucked his coat further around himself, and kept his head down.

Suddenly, he heard a shout. Turning his head, he saw something that made his heart stop. An elderly man had been knocked down into the gutter, by two grinning stormtroopers.

"Look at this, the old bastard!" A stocky stormtrooper was shouting to his leaner friend. "Holding a loaf of bread! Taking it to hoard, are you?"

Arthur stood, thunderstruck, as the younger man raised his baton and brought it down on the older man's back. He cried out, and the bread tumbled from his grasp into the gutter.

"Reach it for it, you old bastard!" The man jeered viciously. As the older man made a feeble grasp towards it, his hand was struck. Arthur shivered in horror.

"An old Jew like you doesn't deserve bread!" The stormtrooper was beside himself. Arthur had never seen such hatred etched onto someone's face. "I'll take it!"

Reaching down, he plucked the bread from the gutter. Laughing, he and his comrade walked on, laughing. Arthur straightened his shoulders, and hurried over.

"Hey, are you ok?" He spoke gently. He reached out a hand to the elderly man, who almost sobbed with gratefulness.

"Thank you," he spoke in garbled German. "Those Nazi pigs-"

"I know, I know," Arthur spoke kindly. "Come on."

Arthur helped him to his feet, and they walked to a small bakery. After giving the man instructions not to move from the door, he walked inside, and bought a loaf of fresh bread.

"Tuck it inside your coat." He spoke in fluent German, and the man nodded, tears welling again. He thanked Arthur for his kindness, and fled down a side alley.

Arthur took a deep breath. The yellow star. The star that seemed to dehumanise people in the eyes of the Nazis. He tried to calm his breathing, and walked on.

After 20 minutes, the looming hulk of the Nazi Headquarters appeared. He looked up to see the giant swastika flapping menacingly in the breeze. The two guards standing sentry saluted; Arthur nodded. He hurried ih, trying to ignore the flirtatious looks of the docile young women employed as receptionists. He was American, therefore a prize. A prize quickly sullied when his true sexual taste was discovered.

A tall man in a uniform was talking excitedly at the end of the hall. He turned. "Arthur!"

Arthur nodded. "_Guten tag, Obergruppenfuhrer"_. He removed his coat. "Where am I placed today?"

"You're with me." The General waved his hand impatiently. "We have an important visitor." His eyes were glittering.

"Who?" Arthur spoke carefully.

"Joseph Goebbels."

Arthur's jaw sagged slightly. The second most powerful man in the Reich…the Minister for Propaganda.

"Here?"

"Yes." The General was impatient. "It is an opportunity for us to learn about Hitler's plans!"

Arthur nodded. Following the General, he passed into a discreet side room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Yes, its been over a year since I updated this - if anyone is still reading, thank you!**

Arthur swallowed as he was ushered to his seat. Sitting round the dark mahogany table were the most powerful - and notorious - men of the Third Reich. Herman Goering leaned back in his chair with a casual insouciance, tapping a cigarette. Heinrich Himmler, his pale, bespectacled face creased with agitation, leaned forward.

The American blinked. The tales of what was being conducted in terms of brutality and cruelty had been speculated, but never actually challenged. He remembered the behaviour of the stormtroopers to the elderly man in the street, and dropped his eyes.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. "Heil Hitler!"

Arthur shook his head as the assembled men stood, and saluted. Entering the room, dressed in full military uniform, was a pale, short, slightly shrunken looking man. His black, beady eyes swept over the assembled men, and nodded.

"Be seated." He spoke in crisp, stacatto German, and at his word, every seat became re-filled.

Arthur waited. He had to listen, pick up any words. He leaned forward.

"At present," Hitler began, his voice echoing through the hushed stillness, "we are waiting to launch our attack on the British Isles. We have Poland under control. We have Eastern Europe."

There was a pause. All the men in the room, Arthur realised, were waiting on the signal from this one man.

"And we nearly have France."

Another pause. Arthur felt a bead of sweat developing between his shoulders blades, threatening to trickle down his back. This was rudimentary, but if he could intecept Goering, or Himmler, try the dream therapy on them-

"But," Hitler continued, his voice slicing into Arthur's thoughts like a sharpened blade, "there is also the other programme. Herr Himmler, we need to have a private discussion."

The younger man nodded, and rose. Arthur watched as they left.

* * *

Eames walked down the street, his briefcase carefully tucked under his arm. The papers he had to deliver, he'd been told, were to a young businessman - an Australian. The Australian, he'd learned, was resident in Berlin for six months, setting up an imports business.

"He's in league with the Nazis," Cobb had told him, carefully. "Or at least, they think he is. He's the main gateway to infiltrating the business side. All the military hardware they're receiving is through him."

Eames checked the address, and stood outside an imposing office building. Swallowing, he entered. After being greeted by an attractive receptionist, he waited to be ushered upstairs.

As he waited, he heard a raised voice coming from behind a closed door.

"I don't care what you say, they're offering me that price, and we're sticking to it!"

A pause. Then another voice. "You should be careful."

"I am careful. Thank you, goodbye!"

Eames waited. Suddenly, the door opened and out stalked a man in military uniform, not even bothering to look at the British man. Bristling, he walked on.

Eames turned his head. Suddenly, in the doorway, stood a pale man, slender, with an arrogant, aloof expression. He nodded to Eames.

"Robert Fischer. And you are?"

"Eames," he said, hurriedly, getting up. Fischer nodded.

"Of course. You're here about the consignment. Please, walk this way."

**Thank you for reading - please leave a review, it is appreciated!**


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